Introspective
by Florence1
Summary: Why did Tony run out at the end of 'Split Decision'


This is a piece of fan fiction, written for pleasure and not profit. I make no claims on the characters or backstory, they belong to someone else. I am just borrowing them in the hope that they won't mind.  
  
Spoilers for 'Dead Man Talking,' 'Missing,' 'Split Decision'  
  
Opens at the end of 'Split Decision.'  
  
Introspective.  
  
"Like When you were tonguing that he/she a week ago, lots of complex things under that surface."  
  
The word's cut into Tony like a knife. No, worse than that, they ripped, tore, shredded through his uncharacteristic attempts at sincerity. He had let his guard down for a moment, dropped the persona that he presented to the world as his own personal defense, a survival mechanism against his insecurity, and it had been thrown back at him. Not that he didn't deserve it, he was sure that he had probably given out worse in his time, all in the name of friendly ribbing, and he knew that he should be able to take it, but somehow he couldn't. His eyes clouded with pain.  
  
"I gotta go," he said turning to grab his bag, before quite literally running. He was taking the cowards way out, running away. He knew that he should fight back, some witty rejoinder should fall from his lips, but there was no way. . . he just couldn't. He could feel the breakdown coming and he wouldn't give her, wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing it. His own instinct for self preservation wouldn't allow that. He was vaguely aware of bumping someone as he fled from the room, but didn't even notice who it was.  
  
He made it to the locker room, made it into the cubicle before he threw up, sweat beaded on his forehead as the painful retching continued until there was nothing left and still his body punished him with dry heaves. Finally they stopped and he sank to the floor, allowing his breathing to even out as he pulled his arms tightly around against his chest and drew his knees up, at last allowing his mind to consider his reaction.  
  
He had screwed up in a major way, more than once recently, pretty soon Gibbs wouldn't want him anymore, wouldn't trust him any more, and he couldn't face that, however glib he might be on the surface. If there was one person he needed validation from, it was Gibbs. The more distant Gibbs became the harder he felt he had to work to keep his position. That's why he was always pushing the envelope. Well, maybe he had pushed it that little bit too far. First Reed, then Vanessa and finally the lovely agent Stone, each a disaster in their own way  
  
He had wanted results so badly that he had gone after Amanda Reed, against procedure, but Dammit procedures didn't always work. He had his own methods. Sure they were unorthodox, but they got results. He had always been able to use his charm to get people to open up to him, it was how he solved cases. He had figured that that was why Gibbs kept him around. He had seen the opening and he had taken it, and what a mistake that had been.  
  
He had been attracted to her. . .him, the thought brought the nausea back with a vengeance and he swallowed hard. Why was he having such a hard time with this, because he was a she? Because she/he had killed Agent Pacci? Because he'd had his tongue down the throat of someone who'd killed and gutted someone he knew, simply to find the memory stick he'd swallowed? He knew that Kate thought it was the former, but the true revulsion came from the latter, he'd really liked her/him. God, he couldn't even keep it straight in his mind. How could his judgement be so far off?  
  
Then again he hadn't spotted Vanessa either and that had almost got him killed. He shivered in disgust at the memory of waking in the sewer chained to the wall. The image triggered a powerful memory of the smell. The odour of the Sewer combined with rotting flesh was almost enough to cause another batch of retching, but there was nothing left and he swallowed it down, taking deep breaths to return to some semblance of calm.  
  
Dammit, he slammed his fist down on the cold tiled floor, why couldn't he get a grip? He had seen worse, been involved in some pretty gruesome stuff over the years, and gallows humour, and, at times, fairly viscous banter was enough to get him through it, so what was so different now?  
  
Kate.  
  
That was the difference. She was different, unlike most women she was immune to his charm, and he respected her for that, but more than that, she was strong, competent, in control. Like a female version of Gibbs.  
  
Gibbs was not the only one that he needed validation from these days. Kate had his respect and now he needed hers. The banter covering his insecurity was only paper thin, but every time he let his guard down, tried to let her see the real him beneath the persona it backfired. She seemed to know how to aim her arrows straight for his heart, or did it just hurt more because he so needed the opposite from her.  
  
He needed someone to tell him that it was ok to screw up once in a while.  
  
Needed someone to tell him that he had done good.  
  
Needed someone.  
  
He wasn't sure how long he sat before he finally felt the chill from the cold floor and pushed himself shakily to his feet. He listened to make sure that there was no one in the room before opening the door and venturing to the sinks. He stared at the disheveled figure in the mirror and noticed the tear tracks on his face. He drew his hand up and touched the wetness, surprised. He didn't remember crying.  
  
One last look and he turned on the water, rinsing his face and his mouth in the cooling fluid, before running his damp fingers through his hair to revitalize it into its normally spiky style. He looked at his reflection as he carefully restyled, and flashed himself a grin with perfect white teeth. That was better, that was what he needed to see.  
  
He retrieved his pack and headed for the door, almost bumping into Gibbs again on the way through.  
  
"Dinozzo, you still here?" Gibbs asked, scrutinising him closely, and not liking the pale complexion and dark circles that he saw.  
  
"Just about to head home."  
  
"You all right?" Gibbs asked. It had been a good hour since Tony had pushed past him in his hurry to leave and, even in his preoccupied state, Gibbs couldn't help his curiosity. What had Tony been doing in all that time?  
  
"I'm fine," Tony lied, flashing Gibbs with his best million dollar smile, his mask firmly back in place. "See you in the morning." He tipped a half salute as he passed.  
  
"Bright and early," Gibbs said with some of his usual bluster as he turned to watch Tony's retreating back. There was something wrong. "Dinozzo?"  
  
Tony stopped mid stride and there was the briefest of pauses before he turned to face his superior. "Yeah?" he asked expectantly.  
  
Gibbs watched him for a moment, not sure what to ask but knowing that the reply would not be truthful whatever he asked. Tony wasn't going to open up. "Nothing," he waved dismissively, "it'll wait 'til morning."  
  
Tony nodded, flashed another smile and walked away. 


End file.
